Jake Bennett-Day, co-owner of Vino Gusto in Bury St Edmunds, on what makes a wine memorable
It may shock you, dear reader, my ability to liven up a wedding dancefloor like Rachael ‘Raygun’ Gunn. It certainly shocked me when I was informed the following morning. In truth, there isn’t much I do remember of the evening. If it wasn’t for the aching muscles that I didn’t know existed (and slightly embarrassing photographic evidence), I’d have put my headache solely down to overconsumption of delicious vinous treats offered by my recently wedded wine merchant chum. Not for a second would I have considered my discomfort to be the result of a breakdancing injury.
Though, through the haze and throb of my frontal lobe that following morning, I remember clear as day the wine I was drinking all evening. Mrs BD doesn’t find that particularly amusing.
I taste a lot of wine. An ungodly amount, frankly. Sadly, I don’t possess the photographic memory needed to recall everything that has passed my lips. I’ve had some very good, even great wines that no doubt have faded from my internal memory bank. I have dozens of completed notebooks with scribbled snapshot assessments of anything I’ve tasted in a professional capacity. These are very necessary to help me decipher one wine from another, once it’s all become a heady blur towards the end of a long day tasting (on which I may taste up to 200 wines).
Thumbing through these books would make little to no sense to anyone but me. I have the handwriting of a doctor and a shorthand that even Alan Turing couldn’t make sense of. Occasionally you might see asterisks next to wines that I decided were important at the time, or even outbursts of delight in the way of “sh*t, that’s good”, or simply “Wow!”. But in reality, they’re all consigned to the same fate of being swirled, sniffed, sniffed again, sipped and spat out, before shortly being forgotten amongst a sea of deliciousness.
The wines that do stick in my memory are rarely remembered for the juice at all. More often than not, the wine was lubrication for memorable occasions with people that I love. Here are some examples:
A particular Riesling in a particular restaurant
For years, my wife and I would meet friends for a curry and a catch up. Too often that our order would become predictable, and they would no longer ask which wine we wanted for the table. In truth, this Riesling was just the best of a particularly bad bunch and it was totally, fine… I do remember the name (though don’t wish to call out the particularly bad list!) but more than the wine, I remember the occasions: Telling friends that my wife and I were engaged; being told we were obnoxiously loud by the couple next to us; overeating to the point that required respirational relief from my inhaler (for the first and last time…). I’m sure the wine was limey and fresh; I’d have to consult my notebook.
Dominique Morel Fleurie 2015
I do have a penchant for Beaujolais, but even I am able to admit that Fleurie from one to another can taste a little, samey. That is until you find a very good producer. I stumbled on Dominique years ago whilst in Beaujolais, in August. Arrive at a Frenchman’s door in August (the holiday season) and you be told in no uncertain terms which door to leave from. Though to my surprise on this occasion, we were welcomed in and given the full tour. It wasn’t very long. The wines were made in his (admittedly quite large) garage, and they were spectacular. Through my broken French, and Dominique’s enthusiastic grunts, we established a mutual friendship very quickly which in turn, led to far too many bottles of wine being de-corked. We still catch up occasionally and talk about that evening, years later.
Domaine Taupenot-Merme Morey-Saint-Denis 1985
Alright, you’ll just have to get over the pretentious nature of this one. I am a wine merchant, after all. A few months before my wedding, my father and I enjoyed a trip to the motherland, Burgundy. We weren’t planning to buy, but we stumbled on this small parcel of ex-cellars (direct from Domaine) humble village wine from a top producer. My dad bought this bottle and we opened it on my wedding night once the festivities had died off. I wasn’t expecting a great deal. This wine wasn’t built to last so long and certainly wasn’t considered a ‘great’ fine wine, despite being from a top vintage. On opening, time just… stopped. Amongst all of the people I love most in the world, there was complete silence as we telepathically acknowledged we were drinking some perfectly preserved history. To this day, I can recall the aromas of dried rose petals, mulberry fruit, moss and truffle. But stronger than the aromas, I recall being in a musty, dark cellar in Beaune, staring at the bottles we couldn’t afford behind cages with my dad; the panic installed by multiple flashing warning lamps on the dashboard as we raced to catch our Eurotunnel back to Blighty; the swear words that my (recently wedded) wine merchant friend exclaimed upon tasting; and the world’s most expensive (I assume) game of Beer Pong that there ever was.
As a wine merchant, it feels counterproductive to write an article that diminishes the notion that every bottle of wine you taste will live long in your memory. But simply, it won’t. It has always been my feeling that wine enhances any social setting, no matter how much attention you are giving the juice. Wine has been on dinner tables long before tap water and has probably given many better stories. So pay attention to what’s in the glass, but share it with people you love and drink for the occasion, not the obsession.
Jake Bennett-Day is co-owner and director of Vino Gusto wine shop, 27 Hatter Street, Bury St Edmunds IP33 1NE
Call 01284 771831
